


Gunslinger

by extortionist



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-07
Updated: 2020-10-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:34:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,263
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26883730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extortionist/pseuds/extortionist
Summary: Since James Rhodes and Tony Stark met, Rhodey has been there to hold Tony in every stage of his life from his volatile college days in adolescence to the death of his parents in adulthood. Obadiah Stane steals the arc reactor from Tony's chest and suddenly Tony won't let Rhodey touch him.
Relationships: James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark
Kudos: 15





	Gunslinger

The kid was asleep, _finally_. He was breathing slowly and steadily against Jim’s arm and if Jim tilted his head up at the right angle he could see the soft pout on Tony’s face. The only time Tony didn’t have a frustrated little line in between his eyebrows was when he was asleep. Even then, it sometimes still persisted. 

Jim hadn’t expected his college experience to involve him being a babysitter half of the time. He had imagined it’d be difficult but not in the way it had turned out; the material would be tough, and so would trying to find his place among colleagues and professors. When he’d first moved in, he thought the very worst social angst he’d have to face besides the usual was having to deal with his annoying rich kid roommate who had probably only been accepted into the college because of his father. It didn’t take long for Jim to realize that Tony Stark had a lot more going on than just being a pretentious, self-absorbed child. He couldn’t help it–his older brother instinct kicked in.

Some days were better than others. One time Jim had returned to their dorm to an exhilarated Tony covered in grime, excitedly waving his hands at a robot whirring on their floor. That was the best. The worst was when Tony disappeared. He’d go for days at a time and Jim would be helpless to do anything without a way of finding or checking up on him. Jim knew what Tony was usually doing. No fifteen year old had any business drinking and having sex with strangers, let alone a fifteen year old as volatile as Tony. Tony knew the risks and proceeded anyway. It was as if he wanted the consequences to hit him. 

That day hadn’t been good. Tony had been his usual grumpy self in the morning and Jim had sat through his lectures without being aware of any issues. Once they were both back in the dorm Jim had made one offhand comment–he couldn’t remember what it was, perhaps something about Tony needing to slow down and take care of himself–and Tony had snapped. There was yelling and accusations and hot, angry tears. Jim took the abuse as he tried to suss what had triggered Tony so badly. Tony would never talk. It was as if he’d trained himself against it. He was incapable of sitting down and telling Jim how he was feeling and what was happening as much as Jim wished and encouraged him to do so. Jim was learning, slowly, what the verbal cues in Tony’s breakdowns and denials could indicate about the reality of the situation at hand. Today, it was work. Tony had woken up unsteadily, had lectures and labs to attend, had homework to finish, and on top of that his father’s business partner had called and demanded he fulfil a number of obligations for his father’s company. Jim’s comment had caused Tony’s precarious mood to come crashing down. Jim had a mantra to help keep his cool when Tony was on the offense: _he’s a kid who’s never been able to be a kid_.

The pair had argued with each other until Tony had retreated to his bed to tearfully look over blueprints by himself. That was a relief. Sometimes Tony would leave after a match and Jim would be left plagued by the thought of Tony getting wasted and being taken advantage of. This time Jim had sat for a few minutes listening to Tony stubbornly sniffle until he told Tony to get his ass over to his bed. Tony sat defiantly at the foot of Jim’s bed until Jim saw his eyelids begin to droop. Finally Tony ended up curled at Jim’s side with his face pressed to Jim’s arm as Jim slung his free hand over his back to rest between his shoulder blades. 

Up close, Tony looked peaceful in a way he couldn’t when he was awake. Jim almost felt grateful he was the one to have to deal with Tony. Nearly every other person in his life seemed to have failed him. Jim and his basic human empathy were unfortunately different. It was difficult to discern whether Tony was hanging on when they spent time apart in lectures or labs or parties or even when Tony was on the opposite side of the room from Jim. When Tony would let his guard down and allow Jim to hold him, Jim could feel whether Tony was as okay as possible. At least he knew he was breathing and physically relaxing, two things Jim wasn’t sure he was capable of when awake. Despite the upsetting day, Tony had been able to settle down even after the cumulative outburst. Tomorrow was another story but for now Jim knew that Tony, in his messy-haired and lightly drooling glory, was safe. 

–

It was a week before Christmas. Rhodey–he was Rhodey now, even to himself– had a short break he had been looking forward to for months. He had fantasized about sleeping past 5 in the morning and eating Mama Rhodes’s holiday baking every time he had to force himself awake and eat slop. What he hadn’t expected was the call from Tony. He couldn’t even remember when it had come, whether it had been sometime late on the 16th or early on the 17th, but he remembered the tone of Tony’s voice. It wasn’t wet but it was quiet and rough, enough for Rhodey to know something had happened before Tony had said more than a word. Rhodey had come home as soon as he could.

Tony sat on the floor against Rhodey’s legs as Rhodey hovered on the couch above him. Mama Rhodes had convinced Tony he needed to spend Christmas, or at least one day at a time, at her home. Obadiah Stane could handle the company in the meantime until Tony was ready to determine the next move. Rhodey was relieved Tony had agreed. He had to keep an eye on Tony and this was the easiest way for now. There was no universe in which Rhodey wouldn’t fight tooth and nail to be with Tony in this instance. 

There was a vinyl playing quietly from the record player next to the tree. It was a recording from some stage show, the sleeve with the purple lettering; Rhodey could never remember the details of the shows Tony dragged him to but Tony, as Tony was wont to do, knew every single thing about his interests. If Rhodey asked him a single question Tony could spin an answer as if it was a keynote speech. This time Tony was slow and quiet. He seemed mindlessly preoccupied with the puzzle he was trying to piece together across the carpet. Usually Tony could complete a puzzle at record speed. His thoughts were understandably anywhere else. 

Quiet Tony was worrying. When Tony was loudly denying his feelings or trying to obfuscate them among quips, Rhodey was able to venture past Tony’s smokescreens and guess what he was actually thinking. When Tony was quiet, there was nothing. There were no words which Rhodey could use to determine how Tony may be feeling in the moment so there was nothing Rhodey could do to ensure Tony wasn’t going to break down. He wouldn’t blame Tony for breaking down. He never did. He just wished he could see it coming.

Tony shivered against Rhodey’s legs. He was holding a puzzle piece up in the air as though he’d forgotten what he was supposed to do with it. Rhodey shifted and slipped down off the couch to sit beside him. He was still stoic, staring down at the puzzle to avoid Rhodey’s eyes. Rhodey couldn’t tell whether he was being stubbornly silent to avoid having to acknowledge his feelings or whether he was so in shock he couldn’t control a thing. He wanted to tell Tony to say something, _anything_. He knew it was self-serving.

Finally Tony turned and buried his head in Rhodey’s shoulder, crumpling tightly in on himself so he could fit against Rhodey’s chest. Rhodey was reminded of how small Tony had been as a teenager–they were the same height now but the mental image of the short, skinny child never left Rhodey. He felt Tony regress in his arms. Despite knowing Tony wasn’t crying, as he couldn’t hear him shakily gasp for breath nor feel his shoulders jump, Rhodey felt himself tear up as he clung to Tony. 

Rhodey wasn’t a crier but two-thirds of the times he’d cried as an adult had something to do with Tony. When Tony had been a teenager, it was either Tony’s angry, frightful cruelty or the fear of losing Tony whether it be mentally or physically. Now it was the deep, deep grief Rhodey felt on Tony’s behalf. Rhodey knew there was no emotional preparation that Tony could have done for him to be able to handle the situation. The thought of the following days, weeks, months, and years were daunting. The company would survive, but Rhodey, even with all of the faith he had in him, was not sure whether Tony would. Rhodey gripped Tony, pressing the side of his face against his head. When he was in Rhodey’s arms, Tony couldn’t hurt himself, drink himself sick, or get himself killed. Rhodey could feel his chest rise and fall and feel his warm breath against his shoulder. Tony was safe as long as Rhodey could hold him. 

–

Tony’s _fine_ , Rhodey tried to tell himself. He was right there in front of him, stretched across the couch and watching _The Golden Girls_ on the screen. If anything, Tony’s three month detour in Afghanistan and his handling of the shitshow of events that followed should have taught Rhodey that Tony was resilient far beyond his imagination. Clearly, Tony was alive, breathing, and funnelling a chili dog into his mouth; he wasn’t quite on the precipice of death. But Rhodey still felt like he didn’t _know_.

Greed had devastated Tony. Obadiah Stane had been the closest thing Tony had to a parental figure for the better part of his adult life and he had targeted Tony in a seemingly unending avalanche of betrayals. If it had just been the hit it would’ve been fine–white collar murder for company advancement wasn’t an unheard of business tactic. The miniaturized arc reactor was Stark genius that Obadiah couldn’t replicate, so he had to steal it. There was no greater act of violation than Obadiah ripping the part out from Tony’s chest. It wasn’t just robbery or attempted murder, it was an insidious, invasive physical assault from a man so power-hungry that humanity, whether it be towards Tony, Pepper, or civilians, no longer mattered. It should have devastated Tony. 

Rhodey’s thoughts looped. He knew Tony. He didn’t doubt that he knew Tony. He knew that Tony was strong. He knew that Tony was currently sitting an arm’s length away, focused on the television as if nothing had happened. Maybe Tony had cried himself sick in private, but now his eyes were bright and clear despite the frustrated little line in between his eyebrows from trying to mask the chest pain Rhodey knew he was feeling. The combination of the shrapnel and the technology in Tony’s chest hurt him on a sliding scale from dull ache to insufferable; Rhodey had only found out about the latter upon entering the mansion and J.A.R.V.I.S. politely informing him that _Mr. Stark is on the basement floor again._ Rhodey had tried to pull Tony up but Tony wouldn’t let him. There was a fear behind Tony’s protestation that he refused to name. 

Once as adolescents after a particularly foreboding night Rhodey had asked Tony to stay with him so that Rhodey could be sure Tony wouldn’t do anything to himself. That night Tony had listened and he’d let Rhodey hold him. Tony’s hair was flopping over his forehead the way it had as a child when he was far too focused on his textbook to push it back. Rhodey would’ve reached forward and brushed it to the side with his hand but he knew Tony would recoil. He thought of the small, unstable teenager he met and had tried desperately to keep out of danger and feared that Tony would regress back into the angry, terrified, self-destructive child he had been decades ago. 

Ordinarily Rhodey would vocalize what needed to be said regardless of if the person he was talking to would like it but Rhodey couldn’t ask Tony if he could touch him. He knew Tony and he knew the answer would be no, but not in so many words. Rhodey imagined how he’d sling his arm over his chest in subtle defensiveness and chastise him for interrupting his top priority _Golden Girls_ rewatch. There was no use in asking. Rhodey thought hearing Tony deny him might feel worse than the tension of not asking in the first place. 

Rhodey wanted to wrap his arms around Tony and feel his breath against his shoulder as he leaned into his chest. He wanted Tony to believe that he would never betray him the way Tony had been betrayed. He knew Tony _knew_ it without Rhodey having to say it–Rhodey wanted him to _believe_ it. More than anything, Rhodey wanted to know that Tony was safe. Sitting with Tony would have to suffice until hopefully, inevitably, Tony would be able to trust touch again.


End file.
